


stardust lovers

by orihime



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, NijiAka Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orihime/pseuds/orihime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>fills for the prompts of nijiaka week on tumblr. 02: fluff/domestic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. angst/seasons

**Author's Note:**

> the title probably has nothing to do with this but i was listening to a nijiaka playlist and stardust lovers by kenn and mamochan was in it and i liked the sound of it, shrug. also i'm not really sure what i was trying to accomplish with this.
> 
> this entire thing will be dedicated to [my other half](http://twitter.com/megidoIa/) because i love her as much as she loves me and as much as we both love nijiaka.

**i. fall**

Seijuurou isn’t particularly fond of autumn. He doesn’t have a strong opinion on the seasons like most people seem to, but he can say for sure that fall is his least favorite one for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint, or doesn’t feel like acknowledging anytime soon.

_It must be the leaves_ , he muses, as he walks past a row of dying trees, feeling slightly irritated at the constant crunching sound the dried leaves make as he steps on them on his way to school—he’ll never understand how people find this satisfying—, but later in the day he comes to the conclusion that it’s not the dried leaves but the weather: it was cold enough to wear long sleeves and his blazer that morning, but by the time the lunch bell rings he’s had to leave his blazer behind and roll the sleeves of his uniform shirt up to his elbows. The weather in autumn is annoying and troublesome, and forces him to end the day with wrinkles on his clothes.

_“Relax,”_ Nijimura-san’s voice sounded in the back of his mind, and Seijuurou could see his face clearly as if the former captain of the Teikou basketball team was standing right in front of him, like he had almost two years ago on a day like this: _“nobody’s gonna judge you for some wrinkles on your shirt, Akashi.”_ Nijimura-san had said, and playfully smudged a tiny bit of dirt on Akashi’s shirt, and Akashi had scowled and batted Nijimura-san’s hand away, and the older boy had laughed at his pouty face and called it _adorable_.

“How annoying”, Akashi said to himself, thinking of whimsical weather, dried leaves that wouldn’t let him walk in silence, and the memory of Nijimura-san that just didn’t seem like wanting to leave him alone anytime soon.

**ii. winter**

It was fitting, he guesses, that his downfall came in the Winter Cup.

Many people associated winter with death and sadness and heartbreak—and he could see where they were coming from and would be inclined to agree with the sentiment if he wasn't feeling this _free_.

It had been as if a very huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders, and the tears he wept after the match were more out of relief than out of frustration at having been lost, and there was a comfortable warmth in his chest despite the heavy snow falling outside and the disapproving, harsh words of his father still ringing in his ears. Seijuurou places a hand on his chest as he continues looking out his window, quietly observing the snowflakes falling down slowly, weightlessly, and he feels just as light as they do.

“I’m back,” he whispers to no one in particular, and for some reason the image of a deadpan Nijimura-san staring at him with his arms wide open on his last day at Teikou flashes through his mind, and he fails to remember the reason why his response had been huffing and looking away with a scowl on his face.

_Would it be even warmer in Nijimura-san’s arms than this?_ He thinks, and promises himself that he’ll find out the answer to that question the next time they meet, whenever that is, and refuses to let the cold of this winter night and the added chill of loneliness overpower the warmth in his chest and his memories.

**iii. spring**

Spring comes again and with it a new school year, and new members of the Rakuzan basketball team. Seijuurou has been too preoccupied looking forward to what the rookies had to offer to really focus on anything else around him—except classes, of course, he couldn’t afford to not pay attention when he was starting his second year in high school and should work his hardest this and next year to get into a good university.

He shoves his thoughts of the future aside when the bell rings, signaling the end of his last class, and takes his schoolbag before making his way to the club room to get changed into his gym clothes before getting started with practice. Once in the gym, he waits for the newcomers to arrive as he skims through the paper in his hands with a list of names as Reo laments this being his last year together with Sei-chan, draping an arm around his shoulders. Seijuurou indulges him, reminding Reo that they can still hang out after graduation and play street basketball together, to which Reo beams and tightens his grip on him.

The redhead hears someone clearing his throat somewhere in the room and Reo lets go of him with a pout, and Seijuurou starts calling the names of the newcomers one by one, asking for an introduction and the positions they’ll be playing, and he hadn’t realized there were so many new members until it starts to feel like an eternity has passed by when Nagatake-san’s done speaking. Seijuurou thanks him, and calls for the next one: “Next is… Niji—” he speaks, and his breath catches in his throat for a split second before he regains his composure, and continues, “Nijimura-san.”

Seijuurou lifts his gaze from the paper as Nijimura-san takes a step forward, and their eyes meet as the older boy speaks, “Nijimura Shuuzou, I’m a third year. I play as a small forward.” And Seijuurou almost forgets to reply until he hears Reo’s appreciative hum somewhere behind him, and he thanks Nijimura-san before going over the rest of the list, and his mind works in autopilot as the rest of the new team members introduce themselves.

By the time they’re done it’s almost time to go home, so Seijuurou dismisses them with a promise of starting with an extra rigorous practice next time to make up for the time they lost today, and he slows his movements to make sure the club room won’t be too crowded so he can get changed peacefully, and also because he’s feeling a bit jittery, and a small part of him is hoping that Nijimura-san will maybe be waiting for him by the time he’s done.

And he is. “Yo,” Nijimura-san starts when Seijuurou walks out of the club room in his school uniform. “Long time no see, Akashi.” He says, and Seijuurou feels strangely light, like he’s floating.

“Nijimura-san,” he almost whispers, and the lopsided grin Nijimura-san gives him makes him feel as if he’s fourteen again: with the erratic beating of his heart and his slightly sweaty palms, he feels small and fragile, like a crystal doll resting in Nijimura-san’s clumsy hands, he thinks for a brief second, before internally scoffing at his cliché analogy. “It certainly has been a long time. It’s good to see you again” he replies with sincerity, and Nijimura-san nods his agreement.

“Feel like grabbing something to eat on our way home?” the upperclassman asks, and Seijuurou can’t agree fast enough.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers people call spring the season of love, and he wonders if this is why.

**iv. summer**

“Whatever happened to your stamina?” Seijuurou asks with an eyebrow raised as Nijimura-san drops to the ground, burying his hands on the sand below him, panting. It’s almost six am and the rest of the team is back at the inn they’re all staying at for summer camp, but Seijuurou was always an early riser, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t surprised to see Nijimura-san was one, too.

“Didn’t have much time to exercise back in America,” Nijimura-san answers in between wheezes, and Seijuurou offers a water bottle to him, taking a seat right next to him and directing his gaze ahead, to the horizon; where the sky and the sea meet and the sun is beginning to rise. “Is why I figured I should train extra hard if I wanna play in an official game,” the older boy continues before uncapping the bottle and emptying almost half of it, and Seijuurou can’t seem to take his eyes off of his upperclassman—the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down every time he swallows, that drop of sweat running down starting from his temple and disappearing below his jawline, the way his lips wrap around the tip of the bottle, and Seijuurou hadn’t noticed Nijimura-san’s eyelashes were so long before.

Nijimura-san stops drinking suddenly, the bottle still inclined upwards against his lips, opening one of his eyes to direct a lazy, questioning gaze at Seijuurou. The redhead clears his throat and stands up abruptly, turning his back on Nijimura-san to continue with his jogging, blaming his burning cheeks on the hot summer morning and the beating of his heart on his exercising—though he knows better. He always knew better.

“Akashi.” He hears just as he’s taking a step forward, and he stops and turns around, only to find Nijimura-san has stood up as well, and he’s looking at him with an unreadable expression on his face—and his arms wide open. Seijuurou scowls, and Nijimura-san’s expression breaks into a small, sheepish smile, and he seems almost nervous as he waits for Seijuurou’s reply to his invitation.

Seijuurou sighs and looks away, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Nijimura-san’s shoulders slumping before he grimaces and takes a step forward, and another, until he’s standing in Nijimura-san’s personal space, and then he’s wrapping his arms around Nijimura-san’s neck, and his eyelids flutter closed as he feels his upperclassman’s arms wrapping around his waist.

They’re sweaty and sticky and smelly and physical contact with another person in summer is one of Seijuurou’s least favourite things, but the way Nijimura-san exhales against the skin of his shoulder feels far beyond pleasant, and he decides that he doesn’t mind the season or weather as long as Nijimura-san keeps holding him this close.


	2. fluff/domestic

**i.**

Moving is exhausting. Though neither of them has much, there’s still enough boxes lying around to make them take the stairs up and down a ridiculous amount of times, and Seijuurou laments not being able to afford staying at a place with a working elevator. By the time they have all their boxes in their new apartment, the sun is setting and he feels every muscle on his body screaming—he can only hope he’ll be able to move about tomorrow.

Seijuurou sits on the floor of the furniture-less living room of the apartment he’s renting with Shuuzou, and as he lets the exhaustion creep up his body and nearly swallow him up, he lets his mind wander.

When people asked what he’d be doing after graduation, he would answer with confidence in his voice that he planned to work with his father as he made his way through college, but his plans had crashed somewhere in between his third year of high school and Shuuzou’s visits to the Akashi estate, and he supposes it had been one of their maids that had informed his father about the true nature of his and Shuuzou’s relationship. To say that his father disapproved of it would’ve been an understatement, and when he’d been given the choice to pack up and leave or end this _ridiculous_ and _abhorrent_ relationship of his, he had turned his back on his father and briefly wondered if things had gone differently if his mother was still around as he packed his clothes and several other items he assumed he’d be needing.

He hasn’t gone back to the Akashi estate since, and as he looks at the plain, naked white walls around him, he doesn’t feel as tired and broken as he initially did after moving out of the house he’d been living in since birth. It wasn’t as if his father’s reaction was a surprise, after all, and the Akashi estate had stopped being a place he could call home with his mother’s passing.

“I made dinner,” Shuuzou interrupts his thoughts and sits by his side, his body facing the opposite side Seijuurou’s is, with a pot in his hand and two sets of chopsticks in the other. “We didn’t have much, we should go out for groceries tomorrow,” he says and offers an apologetic smile as he offers the pot full of plain white noodles with a bit of butter and grated cheese to Seijuurou, who simply stares at it.

“I’m tired,” Seijuurou speaks, and he knows Shuuzou is exhausted as well—but he also knows that Shuuzou would gift him with the moon if he could. He allows his selfish side to run free for a few moments, and pleads to Shuuzou with his gaze. His boyfriend deadpans, and does the thing he does with his upper lip that Seijuurou had always found extremely endearing and might’ve been the reason why he fell in love all those years ago, and scoffs a _you’re being a baby_ before scooping up some noodles with the chopsticks and offering them to Seijuurou, who takes them into his mouth gladly.

Shuuzou proceeds to get his own mouthful of noodles before lifting his hand once more to Seijuurou’s mouth, and as his boyfriend feeds them, Seijuurou thinks that this, this almost empty apartment with naked walls that lacks a table to eat dinner on, with boxes scattered everywhere and only a mattress and an old blanket to make it through the night until they can afford a bed and a new set of bedsheets, this living space that he’ll be sharing with Shuuzou; where they’ll be sharing their meals and their lives, feels a lot like home.

**ii.**

“We’re celebrating,” Shuuzou replies to Seijuurou’s eyebrows raised in question at the bags he’s bringing with him as he comes into the apartment. He walks past the redhead and into the kitchen, where he places the bags in the counter and starts taking out several bottles and ingredients for what Seijuurou assumes will be dinner.

Seijuurou frowns, “I really don’t think we should be spending money on alcohol,” they had been barely making it through with the money from Shuuzou’s internship and Seijuurou’s part time job, and they still had the need to save money for furniture they hadn’t been able to buy just yet.

“Sei,” Shuuzou starts, turning to face his boyfriend. “It’s been almost a year since we moved in here and it’s been nothing but stress, and just now we’re starting to get it together. You’ve made it through your finals with no problems and I got a guaranteed full time job when I graduate. Please, just for tonight,” he says, and cups Seijuurou’s cheeks, bringing his forehead to rest on the redhead’s. “Relax. Let’s enjoy ourselves. I’ll make dinner, and we’ll have a nice evening.”

Seijuurou sighs and agrees, albeit a bit reluctantly, and Shuuzou gives him a small smile before kissing the tip of his nose and turning around to work on dinner. By the time dinner’s ready, Seijuurou is starting his second glass of wine, and they eat in a sort of tense silence that slowly melts into a comfortable one, and they briefly go over their days as they enjoy Shuuzou’s food. He’s always been a good cook, Seijuurou muses, and credits it to him being an older brother and his parents being busy most of the time to care for the meals in their household.

They’re drinking in silence by the time they’re done—Seijuurou his glass of cheap wine and Shuuzou a can of beer—when Shuuzou stands up abruptly. “Dance with me,” he says as he extends a hand to Seijuurou, and the redhead looks at his hand and then at his face: Shuuzou’s cheeks are tinted red thanks to the alcohol, and his eyes are glinting with happiness, if a little bit glassy, and he’s not sure how long will they be standing until they both go tumbling to the floor in their inebriated state.

“There’s no music,” Seijuurou says, taking another sip of wine.

“I’ll sing for you,” Shuuzou argues, and Seijuurou’s reply is immediate as he deadpans a _please don’t_ , and Shuuzou pretends to be hurt and offended as Seijuurou takes the offered hand, but they both know that Shuuzou singing would completely ruin the mood.

Seijuurou wraps his arms around Shuuzou’s neck as Shuuzou places his hands on Seijuurou’s waist, and they start swaying from side to side, slowly, with the noises of the city at night for music. Seijuurou rests his head on Shuuzou’s shoulder and lets himself relax, running one of his hands down to his boyfriend’s chest,  closing his eyes and feeling Shuuzou’s heartbeat, letting it wash over him, letting the quiet _thump thump_ of Shuuzou’s heart push away all his worries for the night.

The spell is broken as soon as Shuuzou starts humming a cheesy, old love song he recognizes as the one they heard a few days ago on the radio, the one that Shuuzou hadn’t stopped singing and humming under his breath for hours. Seijuurou stills and looks at his boyfriend, frowning. “Didn’t I tell you not to sing,” he demands more than asks, and Shuuzou replies by grinning drunkenly and switching from humming to singing.

He wouldn’t have a problem with his boyfriend’s singing if he wasn’t completely tone deaf, honestly. Shuuzou’s voice goes up and down horribly out of tune with the song he’s singing, and the sound makes Seijuurou think of banshees and screaming children on the subway. “Shuuzou,” he says, and Shuuzou in turn raises the volume of his voice, making Seijuurou gape at him.

Shuuzou gets to the part of the song in which the singer raises their voice to a really high note, and Seijuurou watches amazed as his boyfriend emits a sound that resembles the whimpering of an injured dog, and snorts. The snort turns into giggles, and then it’s full blown laughter and Shuuzou’s asking what’s so funny, and Seijuurou can’t bring himself to reply. “Oh my god,” Seijuurou says in between wheezes, and Shuuzou joins him in his laughter as he brings his boyfriend closer, holds him tighter.

“Thank god you’re not a singer,” Seijuurou says after their laughter dies down, with a teasing smile on his face, “otherwise we’d be starving.”

“Hey, I’m not so ba—don’t look at me like that! Why don’t _you_ sing, then!” Seijuurou takes his boyfriend’s words as a challenge, and by the time they’re curled into each other on the floor, Seijuurou still humming softly with Shuuzou half asleep on his chest, he’s pretty sure his boyfriend won’t try to compare their singing again.

**iii.**

Seijuurou is exhausted. Finals last year had been nothing compared to this time around, where the subjects are heavier and more research is involved and he spends his days carrying so many textbooks around he’s surprised he hasn’t hurt his back yet; and work today had been especially hectic, and he would drop on his knees and take a nap right on the floor of their living room if it was clean. Sadly, it’s filthy, so he drags his feet through the empty apartment towards the bathroom and starts filling the bathtub with hot water before stripping slowly and washing his hair and body. By the time he’s done, the tub is full and steaming and beckoning him, so he gets in and lets the hot water envelop him and caress his skin, forcing his muscles to relax; and he closes his eyes.

And apparently he falls asleep, because the next thing he knows is that Shuuzou is shaking him awake, a worried look on his face, and Seijuurou feels disoriented and dizzy from the heat as Shuuzou helps him to his feet and hands him a towel. If Shuuzou’s home, that means he must’ve been a long time in the bathroom; no wonder he’s dizzy. He steps out of the tub and wraps the towel around his shoulders, his mind blank as he stares at Shuuzou. “Uh,” his boyfriend starts, the worry coming back to his expression. “You okay there, Sei?”

“Tired,” is all Seijuurou manages to say, and Shuuzou sighs fondly, taking a hold of the towel and kneeling to dry Seijuurou’s body carefully. Seijuurou places his hands on Shuuzou’s shoulders to keep himself standing as his boyfriend drags the towel from his ankles to his thighs, and places butterfly kisses along his stomach and to his chest as he goes up, pecking him on the lips when they’re face to face again.

“Let’s go to bed?” Shuuzou asks, and Seijuurou only offers a slow nod of his head as reply, making Shuuzou sigh again, and then he’s being lifted off the floor, one of Shuuzou’s arms supporting the back of his knees and the other holding his shoulders, and they’re moving out of the bathroom and into their bedroom as Seijuurou rests his head against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “You’re being a baby again,” Shuuzou complains, but he still fetches a clean pair of underwear and slips it up Seijuurou’s legs before he strips himself of his own clothes and leads them both to lie on their bed, Seijuurou curling into his boyfriend as soon as they’re both comfortable and covered.

Shuuzou holds him closer still, places light kisses to the redhead’s face, and Seijuurou tilts his face upwards, seeking Shuuzou’s mouth with his own. Shuuzou gets the message and kisses him softly, pressing his lips against Seijuurou’s over and over again, and if he had the energy he’d go for something more, but Shuuzou stops his hand from wandering. “Sleep,” he says, and urges Seijuurou to lie down and rest his head on Shuuzou’s shoulder. Seijuurou complies, if only because it’s a miracle he’s still awake.

“Love you,” he murmurs before closing his eyes, and feels a last kiss on his forehead, and Shuuzou’s sleepy voice ringing with a quiet _I love you too_.


End file.
